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BY 



A. pARf^E bJrGESS, D. D. 



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W. C. & P. D. BURGESS 
NEWARK, NEW YORK 

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THE ttBHAMY OF 
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Copyright, 1902 

BY 

W. C. & P. D. BURGESS 



»TI»c <B«x*ttc press 



Rev. A. Parke Burgess, D. D., and his wife, Jennette P. 
Burgess, were fatally injured in a wreck on the Northern Cen- 
tral Railroad on the evening of August 29, 1901, while returning 
to Newark from a week's outing in their summer cottage at 
Lake Bluff, Sodus Point, on Lake Ontario. Mrs. Burgess died at 
about ten o'clock August 30, and Dr. Burgess at about two 
o'clock on the same day. The age of each was sixty-six years. 
They died at the home of their elder son in Newark, N. Y. 



The late Dr. Burgess was, by nature, a poet. A talent for 
writing verse was developed very early in his life, and among his 
old papers were found many bits of rhyme and poems of some 
length written in his school boy days. 

During the earlier years of his ministry he contributed to 
the religious press many prose articles and not a few poems. In 
his later years his thoughts appear to have been less frequently 
crystallized into poetic form, but what he wrote was exquisite in 
sentiment and diction, while some of it is worthy to rank with 
the productions of the masters of the art. The writing of verse 
was only incidental in his busy life, a sort of pastime, as the 
many bits of only a few lines hastily penned found here and 
there among his papers plainly show. But what he wrote has 
caused his friends to regret that he did not write more. 

He evidently wrote, not so much for others as for himself. 
And hence in what he wrote is plainly to be seen a picture, a 

III 



photograph, of the purposes and aspirations of the heart and 
life of the writer. Nearly all of his poems are serious in char- 
acter. They have but little to do with the superficial trivialities 
of life. Yet in them all is the joyful spirit of one who was able 
to look deep down and high above, who had a great range of 
vision and a wonderful gift of interpretation of the mysteries of 
Divine wisdom and love. And hence, as might be expected, the 
predominant thought in the poetic writings of Dr. Burgess is an 
eager delight in service for the Master here, coupled with a 
confident steadfast assurance of rest, peace, and growth here- 
after. 

Since the death of Dr. Burgess his children have made a 
partial collection of his poetic writings and embodied them in 
this volume in the hope that many who knew and loved him and 
his beloved wife will gain comfort, pleasure, and help from them. 

After many years of faithful service to his Master in the 
persons of his fellow men, the writer of these verses has gone 
into that Heaven towards which he had so steadfastly gazed. 
May his thoughts, his faith and his aspirations, gathered herein, 
come back like rays of Heavenly light, like breaths of Heaven's 
music, to many who knew and loved the author, and who, while 
hoping for a better country, are yet " pilgrims of the night." 

Chester Holcombe. 



IV 



CONTENTS 



All My Need 

An Easter Thought 

An Old Reprobate 

A Half Century 

Bye and Bye 

Cum Grano Salis 

Christian Endeavor Rally 

Crux Mihi Anchora 

Declaration of the Free 

Every 

Expedi Crucem . 

Four-Score Years 

He That Overcometh 

Hidden 

It Snows . 

Immortality 

Intercession 

Just As I Am 

Lake Bluff at Sunset 

Laurie 

Lydia . 

Life Work . 

Memorial Day 



13 
27 
36 

102 
46 
33 
65 
81 
84 
11 
59 
21 
17 

106 
88 

100 

108 
50 
8 
30 
79 
73 
6 



My Psalm 19 

Ocean 24 

Passing Away 75 

Push Things 94 

Ruined by Sin — Saved by Grace .... 61 

Rest Thou in Peace 90 

Reveries 97 

She Rejected Christ 55 

Songs In The Night 1 

The Victorious Cross 4 

The Dead Line 37 

The Tippler's Fallacy 39 

The Silver Wedding 41 

The Boys 48 

The Pessimist's Lament 52 

The Harvest 68 

The Boon I Ask 77 

The Old Church 93 

Unsaved 34 

Vindication 63 

Work For Jesus 57 

When 9 

We Shall Know 15 

1842—1892 71 



VI 



SONGS IN THE NIGHT 



BY my door, as the shadows grew deeper one night, 
A robin sang, up in the tree ; 
And the notes were so liquid, so cheery, so bright, 
I knew that the song was for me. 

It is said that at night a storm hovers nigh, 

When the red breast sings out the day ; 
But the clouds spread their wings and sailed out of my sky, 

And the stars trooped forth at the lay. 

So the storm sign is nothing to me any more, 

And no bird is a prophet of ill 
That sings in the night at my cottage door, 

When the tumult of day has grown still. 

At the noon-tide her music may be as sweet, 

And as vibrant may be the air ; 
But its waves in the day will unconsciously beat 

Upon nerves that are deadened with care. 

Amid jargon and discord and worry and strife, 

And noise of the mill wheels that grind, 
We hear not and heed not the music of life, 

And to beauty our vision is blind. 
1 



SONGS IN THE NIGHT 



But when night breathes her benedictions abroad, 

When the pulses of toil cease to beat, 
And silence descends, like the presence of God, 

Then heaven and earth seem to meet ; 

And the spirit is touched with a sense so keen, 

And the soul so receptive is made, 
That songs of the birds and the angels, I ween, 

Reach chords through the night falling shade 

That would slumber unused, nor waken for aye, 

Were it not for the stillness of night : 
So I welcome the last pensive hours of the day, 

And look forward to others more bright. 

How we long for the fuller disclosure that waits 

On a day that is not far away, 
When a morning shall wide fling open it gates 

To the march of a jubilant day. 

And the snatches of song from the throat of a bird, 

And the prayer that we lifted above, 
And the thought, and the dream, and the half spoken word, 

Shall be lost in the fullness of love. 

0, I've prayed oftentimes for the " songs in the night," 
That should still the pulse-throbbings of pain, 

And sing on — for the toilers seeking the light — 
Of the " sunshine after the rain." 
2 



SONGS IN THE NIGHT 

I have watched for the loud-swelling strain, yet unheard, 

Of the world's redemption from wrong ; 
And my faith can translate, from the throat of the bird, 

The great theme of that on-coming song. 

No, no, my sweet bird, pouring from the tree-top 

Your joy, that floats down to my ear — 
Your note is not lost, for it wakes a fond hope, 

Which the long waiting world shall yet hear. 

I shall watch for your song, again and again, 

As it reaches far off, and away, 
Till its message transfigures the nations of men, 

And, after the night, brings the day. 



THE VICTORIOUS CROSS 
( For the Y. P. S. C. E. Tune : Caledonia.) 

LIFT the banner, hold it high, 
Blend its glory with the sky, 
Furl it never till you die — 

Die at Duty's post. 
'Tis the banner of your Lord, 
Follow quickly at His word, 
He His own with strength will gird, 
He will lead His host. 

God must arm you for the field, 
Girdle, breast-plate, helmet, shield, 
Take them all and bravely wield, 

Then, the Spirit's Sword. 
Aimed with malice at your hearts, 
Satan's subtle, fiery arts ; 
You may quench his deadly darts,* 

By the Holy Word. 

Take the standard, hold it firm, 
Fear no evil, dread no harm, 
Trust, amid the wild alarm — 
Trust your Sovereign King. 
4 



THE VICTORIOUS CROSS 



Legion though your foes may be, 
Hold the ground, and never flee ; 
O'er their hosts to victory, 
You, your Lord will bring. 

Raise the banner, hold it strong, 
For the battle may be long 
E'er the triumph over wrong 

Shall, at last, be won. 
Yet, He who from Edom came.f 
— Lord Jehovah is His name — 
Clothed in blood, and crowned with flame, 

All the earth shall own. 
'Eph. 6. f ISA. 63. 



MEMORIAL DAY 

GO, deck the graves of your dead once more, 
The heroes who died for you : 
With incense sweet as the vernal shower, 
And grateful fragrance of May-day flower, 
And love that distils like the dew. 

Go, solemnly stand on the peaceful dust, 

Let the drum be muffled and soft ; 
For spirits unseen of a glorious host 
May be mixing your throng — let your strains be lost 

In the music they bring from aloft. 

Go, not with a pomp that is worldly and vain, 

And the noise of an idle throng ; 
But march to the time of a minor strain, 
And with bated breath and a low refrain, 

As you bear your garlands along. 

For a patriot's grave is a sacred shrine, 

Where the weary found rest at last ; 
The moment is full of a thought divine, 
And immortal things with your wreaths entwine, — 

But the martial eclat is past. 



MEMORIAL DAY 

Go kneel on the consecrated ground, 
And scatter the sod with flowers ; 
For a heart once brave rests under each mound 
Of a man that was loyal and faithful found, 
To the Flag of his country and ours. 

Go stand with uncovered and reverent head, 

Till your patriot fire revives ; 
And ponder the deeds of your soldier-dead, 
Till the spirit that hallows their lowly bed 

Shall entemple itself in your lives. 

Yes, kneel on the turf that is green again, 
O'er the graves that enshrine your own ; 
And lay a fair wreath on the cherished mound, 
With devotion as fair, living all the year 'round, 
Living still, thro' the years that have flown. 



LAKE BLUFF AT SUNSET 

U Q UNSET and Evening Star :"— No copyright 
\J Nor letters patent, and no high built walls, 
Nor deeds of ownership, forbid my sight 
Of glories that upon my vision fall 
In boundless affluence from sky and lake and bay, 
As in my perch alone I sit and gaze, 
Spell-bound and silent, at the close of day, 
Far out upon the splendors of the sun's last rays. 

"Sunset and Evening Star :" — The day is bright 
To the last hours upon its dial plate. 
The ancient prophecy : "It shall be light 
At evening-time," still holds its date. 
And such a light not from the mountain tops 
Of the Sierras, nor Italia's classic vales, 
Upon the ravished vision ever drops. 

" Sunset and Evening Star :" — My own Ontario, 
Thy bosom pulsates with a golden heat, 
A sea of glass, mingled with fire, as flow 
The sun's last beams abroad, and at my feet 
The surf breaks, gently, as a mother's lullaby, 
Calming the spirit to a soft repose, 
And wooing all the weary world to lie 
' Mid mantling dreams which Nature round her throws. 



WHEN 

WHEN I can do no more, 
I always can do this ; 
I can look upward and implore 
Strength for my helplessness. 

When shadows cloud my way, 

I clasp the hand of One 
Who safely leads, by night or day- 

I never am alone. 

When my own wisdom fails, 

I ask, and am supplied 
With wisdom which avails — 

My Saviour is my Guide. 

When in some rugged road 
I tread with bleeding feet, 

And falter underneath my load, 
My Helper there I meet. 

When driven to despair 
By wild or sudden grief, 

My Comforter is always there 
With succor and relief. 



WHEN 



When tempted by the lure 

Of some seductive sin, 
Escape is promised and made sure- 

My Keeper is within. 

When fade my treasures here, 
When gain and loss befall, 

then my Keeper, Comforter, 
Shall be my all in all. 



in 



EVERY 

EVERY day its toil, 
Every life its mission ; 
Now we till the soil, 
Afterward fruition. 

Every task its time, 
Every grief its season ; 

And in ways sublime 
God makes known His reason. 

Every eye its tear, 

Every back its burden ; 

Tribulation here, — 

Peace in Christ our guerdon. 

Every heart its pain, 

Alternating pleasure ; 
Sunshine after rain, 

Joy in fuller measure. 

Every day its night, 
Every night its waking ; 

Faith leads on to sight, 
Cloudless day is breaking. 
11 



EVERY 



Every shattered hope 
May, like sunbeams riven, 

Form a rainbow slope 
To the gate of Heaven. 



12 



"ALL MY NEED" 

THOUGH I am weak, 'tis strength to know 
The arm beneath me is not so. 
My weakness renders me secure, 
The hiding place it seeks is sure. 

Though I get lost and go astray, 
My travel guide knows all my way. 
My wayward feet may heedless be, 
But He ne'er loses sight of me. 

Though dangers hover by my path, 
Defense for me my Keeper hath. 
I may not see, I may not know, 
But He is nearer than my foe. 

Though I lack wisdom — simple, blind — 
Of Him I yet may seek and find : 
I ask, He always gives it me, 
Upbraiding not, — abundant, free. 

While I can nothing do alone, 
Together with the Mighty One 
I can do all things : — since His power 
Sufficient is, for every hour. 
13 



" ALL MY NEED " 



When tribulation is my lot, 

The Comforter forsakes me not. 

The world brings conflict, — He gives peace 

He speaks, the winds and tempests cease. 

Though I am poor, He maketh me 
Richer than kings and princes be ; 
For I have all things, and abound. 
The pearl of greatest price I've found. 

Though I the silent vale must tread, 
Its shadow hath for me no dread ; 
Death's twilight sunrise will become, 
And wings of light will bear me home. 

He who supplieth all my need 
As here the pilgrim-path I tread, 
Will be my Good — and only He ; — 
And this is heaven, I know, for me. 



"W 



WE SHALL KNOW 

E shall know each other there : " 
' Tis a pleasant strain to sing, 
For our friends are very dear, 
And we do not cease to cling 

To each form, each face, each name 
Love is there and here the same. 

" We shall know each other there." 
Years may pass, and changes come ; 
But forever, everywhere, 
Love is changeless ; and by some 

Sign, or bond, or token true, 

It will every tie renew. 

" We shall know each other there " 
By the fellowships of years, 
By a thousand memories fair, 
Features, glances, smiles and tears ; 
Recognition follows love, 
Here and in the home above. 

" We shall know each other there." 
Tender thought, and blessed hope ; 
Cheering all our grief and care, 
15 



WE SHALL KMOW 

Mingling every bitter cup ; 

But — it strikes a deeper chord, 

This question : — Shall we know our Lord ? 

Will He know us when face to face 
We meet Him, on the other shore ? 
He trace in us the lines of grace, 
And we in Him the wounds He bore, 

Wounds which on Him our sins had made, 
Grace which in us, His love displayed ? 



16 



"HE THAT OVERCOMETH" 

GREAT is he who masters empires, 
Greater, he who conquers self ; 
Least are they who, like the vampires, 
Live to glut themselves with pelf. 
Good is sent that we may share it, 
111, that we may bravely bear it, 

Good and ill, 

By heaven's will, 
Strangely blending in God's plan 
To evolve the perfect man. 

Live ycur life : and you will find it 
Just the grandest life, for you ; 
Take this truth and firmly bind it 
To your heart ; for if you do 

You will say, 

Some coming day, 
That the lot which God designed 
Was most graciously assigned. 

Greet your day : it may be clouded ; 
Rain or snow or sleet may fall ; 
Let your dawn be darkly shrouded, 
Light will sure break through it all ; 
17 



"HE THAT OVERCOMETH" 

Outer-veiling clouds can never 
Quench the Sun, that shines forever. 

Evening bright 

And star flamed night 
Will coronet the darkest days 
With serene and pensive rays. 

Drink your cup : for love prepared it. 
Drink, though bitter it may be ; 
Drink, for He who gave it, shared it. 
Must He drain it, and not we ? 
Changed by alchemy of love, 
Bitter dregs will sweetness prove ; 

And the draught, 

Freely quaffed, 
To your inner life shall bring 
Gladness of eternal spring. 



l- 



MY PSALM 

IT may be dark, it may be light, 
The way my path is leading ; 
But He who formed the day and night 
My foot-fall aye is heeding. 

My fields may all be sown with tears, 
And grief grow in each furrow ; 

I shall reap joy in future years, 
And — I may reap to-morrow. 

These hills I climb seem steep and high, 

But more enchanting vision 
They will afford me by-and-by, 

Of the fair fields Elysian. 

Each bitter cup He bids me drink 
Is mingled with His sweetness, 

And changed to nectar on the lip ; 
So I taste Love's completeness. 

I sleep, but my heart waketh — still 

I find Him ever near me ; 
He giveth songs — for 'tis His will 

In dark hours most to cheer me. 
19 



MY PSALM 



And like the happy bird that sings 

All night, for very gladness, 
My Psalm shall bear me on its wings, 

From out the realm of sadness. 

My wants are to my Shepherd known, 

And He will gently guide me ; 
He tends and guards me as His own, 

And loves me though He chide me. 

When tired, He maketh me lie down 
Till heavenly dreams, like pastures green, 

And rivers of sweet peace, have flown 
My spirit and her cares between. 

And when my pageantry shall be 
The shadows of the silent land, 

His rod and staff will comfort me, 
And I shall clasp His loving hand. 

Then He will bring me to His feast, 

The banquet of Eternal Love ; 
And though of all His saints the least, 

Admit me to the host above. 



20 



FOUR-SCORE YEARS 
On the Eightieth Birthday of a Friend 

JUST four-score years ! how the tide rolls on, 
As it nears the limitless sea ! 
Bearing the voyager over life's flood 
To the shore of eternity ; 

On, through childhood's sunniest hours, 
On, through youth's enchanted bowers, 
On, through manhood's ripened powers, 
Till age appears 
With its crown of years 
And the time-worn mariner, sighing for rest, 
Anchors at last in the port of the blest, 

Mile-stones four-score ! How the rolling years 

Were checked with sunshine and shade ! 

The calm overcast by the pitiless storm, 

Earth's joy into sorrow must fade ; 

Spring with its bloom and fragrance sped, 

Fruit-bearing summer quickly fled, 

Autumn at hand with a weary tread 

Bent with its load 

On the long-traveled road, 

And winter draws on with its frost-laden breath, 

And the tramp of the years nears the Valley of Death. 
21 



FOUR-SCORE YEARS 

Yes, four-score years ! And they who have reached 

The boundary here to life set 
Have few companions of earlier years 
To journey along with them yet. 

Fathers and mothers have passed on before, 
Brothers and sisters — we greet them no more, 
Loved ones have sped to the other shore, — 
They beckon us on 
To the heavenly crown, 
And with glorified vision how many wait 
To welcome us in, at the pearly gate ! 

Gone — four-score years ; and the gathering snow 

Is resting upon the brow ; 
But as backward we glance on the way we have trod, 
Before the Great Giver we bow, 

And joyfully bring Him our songs of praise 
Whose mercies have followed us all our days, 
And this moment we pray that life's lingering rays 
Soft with mercy divine 
May increasingly shine, 
And lead in the footsteps of light 
To the land never shadowed by night. 

Four-score changing years : — stand firm in thy lot, 

Faithful and true to life's end ; 
Bending ever thine ear to catch every word 

Of the message thy Master may send ; 
22 



FOUR-SCORE YEARS 

Be watchful thine eye, for far spent is the night 
Be burnished thine armor, thou soldier of light ; 
Be ready to march, for the day-star is. bright ; 
Be valiant in fight 
For the truth and the right, 
And a conqueror by and by stand, 
Crowned, and seated at God s right hand. 

Just four-score years ! And what yet remains, 

To measure the earthly strife ? 
How many the sands left yet in the glass 
To measure the years of thy life ? 
For, silently, one by one, they fall, 
One by one, until vanished, all ; 
One by one, till thy God shall call ; — 
When thy race is run, 
Saying : " Servant, well done ! " 
Faithful, aye, in thy Lord's employ, 
Enter, now, His unspeakable joy. 



',':■' 



OCEAN 



WHAT volumes evermore unguessed 
Are shelved amid thy hidden caves ? 
What mysteries thy sprays enfold, 
And legends of the times of old 
When ages slumbered on thy breast, 
In silent and oblivious rest — 
What footprints lost, and nameless graves, 
Are sung, oh sea, by thy sad waves ! 

We read of fables, weird and old, 
Of unrecorded eras past, 
When beings, phantom-like and free 
And strange, inhabited the sea ; 
And Neptune proud, as we are told, 
With car of shell and dolphin bold, 
Rode gaily on thy billows' crest, 
Or flew before the fierce, wild blast. 

And Triton with his trumpet loud, 
Half man, half fish, and grossly made, 
With crescent tail and hoof of horse 
Wore hair as parsley, wild and coarse; 
Oceanus great, and Thetis proud, 

U 



OCEAN 

With sons three thousand, as a cloud 
Of shadowy forms, dwelt in the shade 
That lay o'er all thy deeps outspread. 

But, were there any then, as now, 
That bore to all thy ceaseless wail 
An echo in their own pained hearts, 
A sad refrain to all the parts 
Of dirges that for ever flow 
With all thy waves that come and go — 
And was there then in every gale 
The language of some tragic tale ? 

No answer howsoe'er we wait, 
Comes down thy distant corridor ; 
But now we know full many stand 
Hovering along thy wave-worn strand, 
Listening, as at the Delphic gate, 
The dreaded prophecy of fate : — 
And still they linger on the shore 
For those who will return no more. 

Each bark that cleaves thy restless waves 
Bears loves and hopes from land to land ; 
And for each gallant heart at sea, 
Some heart ashore beats tremblingly : 
None e'er go down to coral graves 
Whose shroud of green the mermaid weaves 
O'er whom sweet zephyrs do not blend 
With plaint of kindred, lover, friend. 
25 



OCEAN 



How many in thy bosom sleep 
Whose locks are with the sea-weed twined ! 
Their bleaching bones no mound protects, 
Buried amid long wasted wrecks ! 
O'er them the sightless monsters creep, 
Where doting love may never weep, 
Nor stray at evening hour to find 
Its grief voiced in the low, soft wind. 

But there are waves more sad than thine, 

And depths more fatal and more dark ; 

Many the wrecks thy caverns store — 

The bowl can tell of many more. 

And those whose loves were drowned in wine 

In colder desolation pine, 

Than they who ne'er the spot may mark 

Where sank their treasure-laden bark. 



26 



AN EASTER THOUGHT 

IF vexations hedge about thee, 
And the chafing cares of life, 
Daily turbulance and strife, 
And the fretted tides of passion 
Surge within thee and without thee, 
List thy Master's voice and will : 
"Troubled spirit, 'Peace, be still.'" 

Staggering beneath thy burden, 
Pressing on, but not alone, 
Answering back, " Thy will be done," 
With each step it shall grow lighter ; 
Strength divine shall be thy guerdon; 
And thy spirit, braver, brighter, 
Shall rejoice at His sweet will 
Who commands and governs still. 

Lay no troubles on a brother ; 
Like the sunbeams be thy thoughts, 
Or the bird-song, as it floats, 
Laden with a benediction, 
Out of self, to bless another ; — 
Till the song of thy affliction 
Echoes back the Master's will : 
" Child of sorrow, ' Peace, be still.' " 
27 



AN EASTER THOUGHT 

0, for this emancipation ! 
From one's self to be set free, 
Chained to self no more to be. 
Reign through all my inner being, 
Author of my liberation ! 
— Thought, volition, passion, feeling, — 
O'er this realm enthrone Thy will ; 
Bid these restless waves "be still." 

This Gethsemane hath taught us : — 
Richest gain from utmost loss. 
This the lesson of the cross : — 
Peace and strength by deepest anguish. 
By the pain and woe that bought us, 
By the stripes that made him languish 
By the pangs of His blest will, 
Christ commands us : " Peace, be still." 

Fatal is the introspection 
That but leads us to complain ; 
Nourishes our morbid pain ; 
Magnifies each dark misgiving 
Till the somber-hued infection 
Cankers all the joy of living ; 
And our murmurings mock the will 
That has whispered : " Peace, be still." 

Calmer, deeper is the river 
As it widens to the sea ; 

28 



AN EASTER THOUGHT 



So our human life may be, 
Flowing from the Rock eternal, 
Christ, of life and peace the Giver, — 
Till, beneath the skies supernal, 
Heaven shall this sweet pledge fulfill : 
" I am with you, Peace, be still." 



39 



LAURIE 

THOU hadst but a brief day 
Of gladness and pain ; 
Then sped like a bird away, 
Thy rest to gain. 

Sadly they cared for thee 
Till He said — " Come ", 

Who had prepared for thee, 
Health and a home. 

Tenderly loved thou wast ; 

We cherish thee yet : 
Though gone thou art not lost, 

Nor do we forget. 

Fond memory brings to us 
Thy form and grace ; 

Thy laugh again rings to us, 
We see thy sweet face. 

And thus thou art living 
In some blessed sphere, 

And comfort art giving 
To lonely ones here. 
30 



LAURIE 

Many swift years have flown, 
Since, finding Christ's grace, 

His holy spirit shone 
In thy fair face. 

And through thy prayerfulness, 
Always there came to be 

More of His heavenliness, 
Shining about thee. 

Many were taught of thee, 
Wisdom and goodness. 

Sweetly they think of thee — 
Think but to bless. 

One loved thee tenderly, 

Wept at thy side, 
Waits now, and longs for thee 

Adorned as a bride. 

Just ere thou f oundest rest, 
One dear to me 

Reached the Redeemer's breast- 
Is he with thee ? 

Oh ! how my eager soul 

Now faints to go 
Onward to reach the goal, 

Where I shall know. 
31 



LAURIE 

Yet I would fain abide, 

If it be best, 
Toiling till eventide 

Bringeth me rest. 

Those who had gone before 

Beckoned thee on ; 
And dear ones on this lone shore 

Fain would have gone. 

Near to the mercy seat, 

Inside the gate, 
Thee with the pure to meet, 

Meekly we wait. 



32 



CUM GRANO SALIS 

WHEN the marvelous man comes round, 
His eyes dilated, and manners wise, 
Be sure he's come with sensational lies, 
And when he repeats some wonder he's found, 
Before you swallow his story just halt, 
And take what he says " with a grain of salt." 

When the garrulous woman drops in 
For a hasty call, and draws you aside, 
Beware ! for perhaps somebody has lied ; 
And under her tongue she is rolling the sin 
As a very sweet morsel : " 0, have you heard ? 
Have you not ? Well, then, don't say a word," 

' As coming from me. For you know, you know," 
( The cowardly sneak always wears a disguise, 
When spreading her gossip, and scandal and lies ) 

' You know we are friends, and 'twould never do ; 
But where have you been ? It's all over town ; 
In everyone's mouth, I declare, up and down." 

' Tis just as I state it ; and worse I'll be bound. 
Your ignorance fills me with utter surprise." 
And this is the way they disseminate lies — 
These idle tale-bearers, who always go round 
Slyly seeking to put somebody at fault, 
Whose words you must take " with a grain of salt. 
33 



UNSAVED 

I am not saved ; Spring's warmthful ray 
Quickened the grain in fertile soil ; 
The harvest's long and generous day 

Blessed bounteously the reaper's toil ; 
My thriftless hands have culled no sheaves, 
My empty garner none receives, 
/ am not saved. 

I am not saved ; at vernal dawn, 
Many with precious seed went out ; 

Bedreamed, letting the hours glide on, 
More sleep my languid eyes besought ; 

And now with joy the faithful reap, 

While harvestless I sit and weep — 
/ am not saved. 

Strange that the birds should sing in vain, 
The early flowers in sweetness bloom, 

The mellow clouds send genial rain, 
And to my heart no teaching come ; 

When nature sprang to life, renewed, 

I languished on, in idle mood, 
/ am not saved. 



34 



UNSA VED 



Why have I suffered thus to pass 

My golden opportunities ? 
Why indolent, when swift, alas, 

Life's fruitful summer season flies ? 
Though many voices come to me 
And say, " The Master calleth thee ! " 
I am not saved. 

Soon will the harvest time be gone, 
The last sheaf borne in triumph home ; 

And I, unblest, afraid, alone, 

Shall to the Lord of harvest come, 

If yet my bed of ease I keep, 

And go not forth to sow and reap ; 
/ am not saved. 

Oh, shall I not begin to-day, 

And in the vineyard of the Lord, 

Toil, till at evening he shall say, 

" It is enough ! " At that sweet word 

I'll with my harvest homeward haste, 

And enter into peaceful rest — 
Jeweled and saved. 



35 



AN OLD REPROBATE 

OH, you wicked old scamp, will you never be good ? 
And behave in a way that a decent man should ? 
The years o'er your head in such numbers have flown, 
It must surely be time that your wild oats were sown ; 
And one would suppose that a spell of propriety 
Would please you, if only for sake of variety. 
I should like to reform you and lead you to mend, 
But I fear you will stick to your sins to the end. 



"THE DEAD LINE" 

BEWARE of the Dead Line, my brother, 
It cannot be far away; 
And this way, or that, or the other, 
This Nemesis gets you, some day. 

'Tis a fixed and a firm decretal, 
And a law that changeth not ; 

A " live wire," whose touch will be fatal, 
And strange as the " death in the pot." 

The hairs of your head are all numbered, 
— The gray ones especially are ; — 

And the brow that with them is cumbered, 
The " Committee " will sight from afar. 

" Gray hairs are a crown of glory," 
Of old the Wise Man said : — - 
But the preacher sage and hoary 
Must dye, or lose his head. 

The lawyer has full permission 

To get as old as he will ; 
And age justifies the physician 

In presenting a larger bill. 
37 



" THE DEAD LINE" 



The judge on the bench is strongest 
At three-score years and ten ; — 

The statesman with record longest, 
Is honored most among men. 

So, these are the men referred to 

In Proverbs of old, no doubt ; 
And ministers should not be heard to 

Repine, if themselves are left out. 

But, brothers, press over the " dead line," 

And carry the battle on ; — 
For Christ still lengthens the red-line 

Of gospel conquests won. 

And let them count, at their leisure, 
The gray locks over your brow ; 

It may yet be the Christ-King's good pleasure 
On old heads the crown to bestow. 

In the heat of the day bear thy burden ; — 

In the cool of the day do thy best ; 
And this, at the last, be thy guerdon, 
" Good servant, enter thy rest." 



THE TIPPLER'S FALLACY 

££ I can drink or let it alone," you say, 

I As you scornfully turn from the pledge away : 
" Nor hand of mine 
Shall ever sign 
A vow that makes me a crouching slave ; 
I rank with the many, free and brave." 

So you say, and indeed we very well know 
You can drink to excess, and frequently do ; 

But we're in doubt 

You see, about 
The other half of your boasted creed, 
And the " better half " it is, indeed. 

The ability you have to drink, my friend, 
Is a weakness, and will increase to the end ; 

But strong is he, 

And nobly free, 
Though taunted by friend and haunted by foe, 
Who still lets alone the dark cup of woe. 

Your loud protestation means probably this : 
" An occasional glass is nothing amiss ; 
39 






THE TIPPLER'S FALLACY 

To put it blunt, 

I can, but won't 
Surrender the manly prerogative 
To drink when I please and as much, die or live." 

Ah yes ! you say now you can " let it alone ;" 

So thousands have said, as they went reeling down 

The course of drink 

To ruin's brink, 
Till health, hope and friends and property gone, 
They died, warning others to let it alone. 

To-day you may stop, it is true, if you choose ; 
But think of the strength by indulgence you lose ! 

While appetite, 

With growing might 
Is fearfully undermining your soul 
And clasping about you its fatal control. 

'Tis plain that the rational way to prove 
Your power to surrender the drink you love 

Is to give up 

The drunkard's cup. 
In this is your manhood's liberty, 
And he alone who does it is free. 



40 



THE SILVER WEDDING 
On the twenty -fifth anniversary of a clergyman and his wife. 

|E it silver, be it golden — 

Wood or diamond, tin or crystal, 
When a marriage feast is holden, 

—Deems the scribe of this epistle — 
When beneath the arch there stand, 

Side by side, 
Two who clasp each other's hand, 

Groom and bride, 
Each heart beating just as truly, 

Plighted troth as fondly guarded, 
As when vows were spoken newly 

In the bridal hour departed, 
Every pulse should throb with gladness, 

Every eye tell out its pleasure ; — 
And each song, dispelling sadness, 

Trill a quick, enchanting measure. 

Be it so, that tints have faded 

From the cheeks that once were roses ; 
Dimness has the sight invaded ; 

And a careful search discloses 
Coronating each fair brow, 
Silver threads, 
41 



THE SILVER WEDDING 



Spangled, as we see them now, 

Over heads 
Often weary with their thinking, 

Often racked with keenest aching, 
Bared to life's blasts, without shrinking, 

Every tempest bravely taking ; — 
Be it so : for storms can never 

Dim the stars within you shining, 
Love and hope as bright as ever 

Give each cloud "a silver lining." 



Time may pass — but still enhancing 

Are the treasures that you cherish ; 
Pass the dreams of youth's romancing 

Yet the things that cannot perish 
Brighter grow and more ol worth — 

More benign — 
More of heaven and less of earth — 

More divine — 
For we hold the blessed vision 

Of a future, glad, immortal, 
And love's most complete fruition 

Lies beyond that future's portal : — 
Portal of a home unfading — 

Shrine of love's eternal plighting — 
Joy no sorrow ever shading — 

Ties no evil ever blighting. 

42 



THE SILVER WEDDING 

God hath lit this hope within us, 

That the pathway we are treading 
Leads to ever brighter vistas, — 

To one and another wedding, 
Each disclosing in the bond 

Early taken 
Love more deep if not more fond 

— Love unshaken — 
Holier, truer, riper growing, 

By life's summer showers and sheening, 
As we come more near to knowing 

All its sacred depth of meaning ; 
Love made pure by long endurance — 

Love refined by daily trial — 
Love confirming its assurance, 

By the life of self denial. 

Life has not more shade than shining, 

Wedded happiness grows purer, 
Bliss increasing, love refining, 

Faith and hope grow clearer, stronger. 
Spring was gay, and fair and sweet, 

But there are 
Glories richer, more complete, 

Brighter far, 
In the silver summer hours, 

In the golden, red, and scarlet, 
Of Autumnal woods and bowers, 
43 



THE SILVER WEDDING 

Autumn evenings, moon- and star-lit. 
For these latter lessons teach us 

Of the land across the river — 
Where no frost nor snow shall reach us, 

— Land of spring and youth forever. 

Thus there falls an autumn glory — 

And a calm steals o'er the spirit — 
Hushing all its care and worry ; — 

And, seraphic tones to cheer it, 
Wafted from that nearing shore 

Of life eternal, 
Sung by those who went before, 

Strains supernal, 
Roll upon us, as the night-shades 

Come a holy stillness shedding, 
And the bright, seraphic bride-maids, 

Chant the spirit's golden wedding. 
Then, though memory to this altar 

Bring the flowers she loves to cherish, 
Press, Oh lives that must not falter, 

To the crown that shall not perish. 

And what God hath joined together 

Never shall be put asunder ; 
Side by side, in every weather, 

Be the sky you journey under, 
Seen by faith or seen by sight, 
Day by day, 
44 



THE SILVER WEDDING 

Clear as silver — dark as night, 

Tread your way 
With a trust still growing stronger 

As you near the western gloaming, 
And you hear the boatmen coming. 

With the children God hath given, 
And the flocks that you have tended, 

May you all find rest in heaven, 
When the pilgrimage is ended. 



45 



BYE AND BYE 

THE clouds will all have passed away, 
Bye and bye, 
And there will dawn a brighter day, 

Bye and bye. 
The earth rolls forward out of night, 
A radiant future comes in sight, 
Wrong yet shall yield the throne to right, 
And truth shall flood the world with light, 
Bye and bye — yes, bye and bye. 

The signs that fail shall all come true, 

Bye and bye ; 
The King of Kings " make all things new,' 

Bye and bye. 
Faith long delayed is not in vain ; 
There shall be sunshine after rain ; 
The buried 'seed yield golden grain, 
And flowers that fade revive again, 

Bye and bye — yes, bye and bye. 



Earth will feel a balmy breath, 

Bye and bye ; 
Life burst through the gates of death, 

Bye and bye. 
46 



BYE AND BYE 

Love will make all life more sweet, 
Brotherhood will be complete, 
Rich and poor together meet 
At our common Master's feet, 

Bye and bye — yes, bye and bye. 

Truth shall spring forth from the ground, 

Bye and bye ; 
Righteousness and peace abound, 

Bye and bye. 
Man shall then no more oppress, 
Hands be lifted but to bless, 
Make another's burden less, 
Help and heal the world's distress ; 

Bye and bye — yes, bye and bye. 



47 



"THE BOYS" 



Lif^OD bless the Boys !" our hearts repeat, 
\J Through all the hours of day; 
They're with us at the Mercy-Seat, 
Oft as we kneel to pray. 



" God bless the Boys," whose better thoughts 
Have ripened into gold; 
Whose feet a better path have sought, 
With faces toward the fold. 

" God bless the Boys," with sunny days, 
And loves to sweeten life; 
And purity, and peace, and grace, 
And home, and child, and wife. 

" God bless the Boys," when one by one, 
They feel temptation's power; 
And heaven bend nearer, kindlier down, 
To help, in that dark hour. 

" God bless the Boys " who lead the van 
Of temperance and right; 
Make each a brave, true hearted man, 
With lance and honor bright. 
48 



"THE BOYS" 



' God bless the Boys!" The hour may come 

When each, alone, must stand, 
And battle with the demon, Rum, 
As knights fought, hand to hand. 

' God bless the Boys," and help them, still, 

To tread a free land's sod, 
As Cavaliers, with steel-like will, 
Marched in the " Truce of God." 

' God bless the Boys!" and as they fall, 

Each with his armor bright, 
Tablets shall tell the world: "They all 
Fell battling for the right." 

' God bless the Boys!" and when no more 

The noise of war they hear, 
May Christ's " Well done," at heaven's door, 
Welcome each Victor there. 



J9 



"JUST AS I AM" 



£ £ I UST as I am !" I dare not wait, 
[j I dare not longer risk my soul 
Outside the Heavenly Shepherd's gate, 
Lest I should miss the blessed goal, 
Or, turning, seek the fold too late. 

'' Just as I am!" I cannot feel, 
As fain I would, my nature's woe, 
Nor melt beneath thy kind appeal, 
Nor grieve to see my Savior bleed, 
And know He suffered for my weal. 

" Just as I am!" Thou knowest best 
My depth of guilt, my dreadful sin; 
I only know I am opprest 
By fear and pain and strife within; 
I know my need — Thou knowest the rest. 

" Just as I am!" Though so unmeet 
To be received and made Thine own 
I fall before Thy mercy-seat; 
Christ — I hasten to Thy throne! 
My guilt itself seeks this retreat. 
50 



"JUST AS I AM" 

" Just as I am!" My heart, so dumb, 
I fear would never warmer be, 
Nor I be more inclined to come; 
It is Thy love constraineth me, 
It is Thy voice that calls me home. 

" Just as I am!" Thy latest call 
I hear and heed with bitter tears: 
So late to come and bring Thee all 
My leaves, my tares, and wasted years — 
So late at mercy's shrine to fall. 

" Just as I am ! " And I rejoice 
That mercy's gate stood open long 
For one so slow to hear Thy voice; 
My heart has learned the great new song; 
At last Thy love has fixed my choice. 

:< Just as I am!" And if for me 
One little hour remaineth still, 
Thy truest servant I would be, 
And prove the love that owns Thy will: 
But this, my Lord, I leave to Thee. 



51 



THE PESSIMIST'S LAMENT 



ON the shore I gaze through the gloaming haze, out over the 
misty sea; 
Fair ships I descry that go sailing by, but there comes no ship 

to me. 
Some bring their freight to those who wait, and some go down 

in the deeps; 
And there's glad surprise for many eyes, and many an eye that 

weeps; 
To some they bear a fortune rare, but I know by the Fates' 

decree 
The ships sail light up the harbor to-night, that should bring 

treasure to me. 

I have sown in the past, and freely broadcast the seed where a 

harvest should be, 
But no ripe sheaves it bore, and no plenteous store, — there is no 

harvest for me. 
Men reap from their fields their generous yields, and bring up 

gold from the mines ; 
Men glean from the earth with gladsome mirth the grapes for 

their vintage wines ; 
But alas there remains no gleaning of grains, no fruit on the 

vine or the tree, 

52 



THE PESSIMISTS LAMENT 

No rich " harvest home " when the even shall come, no welcoming 
plaudits for me. 

The clouds hang low on the day's dull brow, and fog is dense on 

the lea ; 
But the sun might gleam and the night stars beam, — the earth 

is still dark for me. 
Old hopes all are dead, the old joys have fled, and others have 

failed to come ; 
111 fortunes may bear me here and there, but still I find no home. 
In bitterness too, I find this true : That "all is vanity ;" 
The world is wide for wealth and pride, but it has no room for 

me. 

I move with the throng as it rustles along, and mirth and joy 
are free ; 

But in never a face I behold a trace of a friend who cares for me. 

In the crowd I'm alone, and every tone is as cold as the dreary 
wind ; 

No solitudes rest on the human breast like that of an isolate 
mind. 

The procession moves on with chatter and fun, but all its rollick- 
ing glee 

Only mocks my lone thought, for I know there is not a chord in 
its music for me. 

I remember the days and the good old ways when plebeians all 
were we ; 

53 



THE PESSIMISTS LAMENT 

But changes have come — perhaps better for some — yet the 

old times were better for me. 
There were neighbors then, and the richest of men walked side 

by side with the poor ; 
And the children of all — of the great and the small — could 

slide on the same cellar door. 
Those old times are past ; it may be for the best — on this we 

may not agree ; 
But the plebeian days, and the old-fashioned ways, were better, I 

fancy, for me. 



U 



SHE REJECTED CHRIST 

SHE rejected Christ, in the pride of her heart, 
She rejected Christ and the better part. 
She rejected Christ for a sinful pleasure, 
The joy of Heaven for a carnal treasure. 

She rejected Christ in her prosperous days; 
She rejected Christ and wisdom's ways. 
She rejected Christ for the smile of the throng, 
She refused the right and wedded the wrong. 

She rejected Christ when her life was young, 
When her cheeks were beauty, her lips were song; 
When her eyes were luster, her form was grace, 
And the glow of health was on her face. 

She rejected Christ, but the years sped by, 
Taking health from her cheek and light from her eye; 
And her lithesome tread became feeble and slow, 
And time's snowy furrows were on her brow: 

And foolishly striving to satisfy 
Her immortal mind with a finite joy, 
She fell shoH of the crown, the harp, the song, 
And the sweet " well done," and the holy throng. 
55 



SHE REJECTED CHRIST 



She rejected Christ, her Infinite Friend, 
And deceived herself to the bitter end. 
She sought a false guide, and she missed the j 
She leaned upon hopes that betrayed her soul. 



m 



WORK FOR JESUS 
Y. P. S. C. E. Hymn. 

WHAT a work to do for Jesus! 
Work for you and work for me ; 
Work for all who trust his merit, 

All who would his glory see; 
Though we fill a lowly station, 
And our talent be but small, 
Though we are but young disciples, 
We must heed the Savior's call. 

What a work to do for Jesus, 

And the perishing around, 
Souls that by His blood are ransomed, 

Telling them the joyful sound ! 
Oh, the lost and dying millions 

Wandering from God astray ! 
You and I may help to lead them 

In the straight and narrow way. 

What a work to do for Jesus, 
Work for heart and hand and brain ! 

Sowing aye, beside all waters, 
Precious seeds of golden grain ; 

Going forth in life's glad morning, 
57 



WORK FOR JESUS 



Happy with the Master's love, 
And at eve returning, laden 

For the " welcome home " above. 

What a work to do for Jesus, 

Work that angels fain would do. 
Might the task to them be given 

That the Lord has given you, 
They would hasten down from heaven, 

To this sinful world would come, 
Borne on love's unwearied pinions, 

And invite the lost ones home. 

Oh, the sacred inspiration ! 

List, each heart by grace made free 
From the cross and from the garden — 

"This I freely do for thee !" 
Can our lips be dumb in silence, 

All unmoved by Love's bequest ? 
Can we close our eyes in slumber? 

Can we fold our hands to rest? 



5b 



EXPEDI CRUCEM 

AKE ready the cross," the magistrate said, 
" Away with Him," clamored the throng, 
As out through the city gate they led 
The innocent victim along. 



"ft 



" Make ready the cross," the angels sang, 
That had chanted the Saviour's birth ; 

With a " Welcome Home," their voices rang, 
That before had sung, " Peace on earth." 

" Good will to men," was the new, sweet strain 
That had ushered His flight from the skies ; 

" Good will," from the cross the soft refrain 
Breathes forth, as the Sufferer dies. 

" Make ready the cross," the dark world pled, 

By death's cold prison shut in ; 
Vain was each altar — each victim that bled, 
Till the Son of God suffered for sin. 

" Make ready the cross," and the bitter cup, 

Plead the lips that must drain it dry ; 
For 'tis meet that One should His life give up, 
That the sinful world might not die. 
59 



EXP EDI CRUCEM 



' Make ready the cross ! " the clamor goes on, 
" Lift Him up on the shameful tree ; " 

We crucify, still, the Spotless One, 
Barabbas still we set free. 



60 



RUINED BY SIN— SAVED BY GRACE. 

Dedicated to the Thousand Island Park Tabernacle. 

Note : — An infidel who had never been moved by eloquent ser- 
mons was led to Christ by the influence of an illiterate hod- 
carrier, who joyfully sang as he pursued his calling : 
" I'm a poor sinner, and nothing at all, 
But Jesus, my Saviour, is All and in all." 

CC I'M a poor sinner, and nothing at all, 

But Jesus, my Saviour, is All and in all." 
So sang the toiler, plodding away 
At his common-place task, from day to day. 

" I'm a poor sinner," I humbly confess, 
But Jesus the Lord is my righteousness. 
I am all weakness, but Jesus is strong ; 
This is my confidence, all the day long. 

" I'm a poor sinner," and wretched would be, 
But He lifts the light of His face upon me ; 
He fills me with peace, and washes me white, 
And sheds on my pathway His wonderful light, 

" I'm a poor sinner," and must have been lost 
Had Jesus not ransomed my soul at the cost 
Of his own precious blood ; so now I must sing 
Of Him as my Prophet, my Priest, and my King. 
61 



RUINED BY SIN— SAVED BY GRACE 



" I'm a poor sinner," yet happy am I 
As bird on the wing mounting up to the sky ; 
I'm free, since my Jesus has broken my thrall, 
And I praise Him and bless Him, my " All and in all. 

" I'm a poor sinner ; " my life is not mine 
Since Jesus has stamped it with value divine. 
Being bought with a price, I call nothing my own, 
At the feet of my Lord I lay everything down. 

" I'm a poor sinner," and weakest of all, 
But He will not suffer His weakest to fall ; 
And so, when He makes up His jewels at last 
My crown at His feet I will hasten to cast. 



62 



VINDICATION 

A FLY lit on the horn of an ox, 
As he grazed one summer day ; 
A wild wind blew on the shore of rocks, 
And spattered them with spray. 

The ox grazed on, nor heeded he 
The fly that nibbled his horn ; 

The rocks, in their silent majesty, 
Tossed back the surf with scorn. 

Now, learn from the ox, in his dignity, 
And the granite, calm and strong, 

A lesson of value through life to thee ; — 
And treasure it well and long : 

If the tittle-tattles come buzzing around, 
To sting and poison your name, 

And envy hurls its bitter spray 
To smirch your well earned fame, 

Don't spend your strength in chasing flies, 

Nor fret at the nasty spray ; 
For soon the troublesome insect dies, 
And the sun dries the surf away. 



VINDICATION 



A good man's name, like the ox's horn, 

Defies the slanderer's bite ; 
As soon may a rock of its strength be shorn, 

As a life that stands for the right. 

Go on with your work, come blame or praise 
Leave slander to meet its fate ; 

Truth's verdict sometimes long delays, 
But come it will — though late. 



64 



CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR RALLY 

RALLY, Y. P. S. C. E. ; 
" Forward ! " let the watchword be 
Earnest be our noble youth 
In the sacred cause of truth. 
Quick the years are speeding on — 
Sowing time will soon be gone. 

Rally, when the church bell calls — 
Come, within the hallowed wall ; 
God will meet and bless you here, 
Comfort, strengthen, aid and cheer, 
And each holy Sabbath day 
Speed you on your Heavenly way. 

Rally, father, mother, child, 

By the call to prayer beguiled, 

Lay aside each vain excuse, 

Make with God a lasting truce, 

At His altar-flame to seek 

Light and strength for all the week. 

Rally, at the Sabbath's close : — 
Sweet will be the night's repose, 
When from church you wend your way : — 
65 



CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR RALLY 



" I have walked with God to-day," — 
Such a peaceful thought will prove 
Semblance to the life above. 

Rally, when, amid the week, 
Called, from care, your God to seek ; 
Bid the world, one sacred hour, 
To release you from its power. 
Come, your Saviour here to meet, 
Come, to His dear Mercy Seat. 

Rally, for the Master's work ; — 
Up, and at it — never shirk ! 
He who gave Himself for thee, 
Paid thy debt upon the tree, 
Loves thee with unmeasured love, 
Calls thee from His throne above. 

Rally one, and rally all ! — 
You have heard that loving call ; 
Clear it comes, above the din 
Of earth without and heart within ; 
" In my vineyard work to-day — 
I will be with thee alway." 

Rally, to the Sunday School : — 
Let the ranks be strong and full. 
In the work right here at home 
For " one more " there's always room ; 
66 



CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR RALLY 



Do the things you can do best — 
Then let others do the rest. 

Speak to strangers when they come ; 
Make them feel that this is home ; 
Clasp the poorest by the hand — 
Be a loving, social band : 
Greet the children with a smile, — 
And their lonely thoughts beguile. 

Little duties — humble tasks — 
These are what the Master asks ; 
Vanity brings no reward 
To the servants of the Lord ; 
What we do in love, is all 
That will answer to His call. 

Rally, then, from near and far — 
Like the men who go to war : — 
Join the army of the Lord, 
Armed with helmet, shield and sword ; 
Bear the banner of the cross — 
Let it never suffer loss. 

Rally — till the lands afar, 
Torn by feud, and cursed by war, 
For their woes shall find surcease, 
Through our glorious Prince of Peace ; 
Till, o'er all the earth shall be 
Heaven's triumphant jubilee. 
67 



THE HARVEST 

THE reaper into the harvest thrust : 
The fields all white are growing ; 
The time has come for garnering up 
The fruit of age's sowing. 
The golden era's coming on, 
The day-star heralds its dawning ; 
Propitious fate reserved for us 
The affluence of its morning. 

The reaper into the harvest thrust : 
The genial soil has yielded 
A rich award to the giant strength 
The arm of toil has wielded. 
Survey the future's gorgeous field — 
An opening flood of blessing, 
Borne by the rising tide of time, 
Sets in upon us pressing. 

The reaper into the harvest thrust : 
The generous past is bursting 
In buds of promise and of hope, 
Despair's grim night dispersing. 
Arise ye ! " To the breach once more ! ' 
68 



THE HARVEST 



High noon sets on the dial ; 
Momentous issues urge their suit, 
Brave souls ! abide the trial. 

The reaper into the harvest thrust : 
Though in the heat you welter, 
Approaching shades come on apace 
To give you grateful shelter. 
Be earnest now ! " redeem the time," 
For sin's death-pall is spreading 
Like deep'ning night o'er ruin's verge, 
Where untold throngs are treading. 

The reaper into the harvest thrust : 
The voice of stifled pleading 
Comes echoing from a myriad hearts 
That now lie crushed and bleeding. 
Rum-fiends still vend their blighting curse, 
While many an anguished mother 
And famished children plead in vain, 
At the heart of a drunken father. 

The reaper into the harvest thrust : 
The bondman's chains are ringing 
In doleful dissonance afar, 
While bards are of freedom singing. 
Beneath the southern Moloch's dome 
Slaves are for mercy praying , 
While demon-saint and tyrant-priest 
Sing psalms to drown their wailing. 



THE HARVEST 



The reaper into the harvest thrust : 
For vice is at noon-day stalking, 
But its hydra form must be laid low, 
And the welcome day is breaking. 
All hail to its rising, spreading light, 
Dispelling the reign of terror, 
Calling slumbering millions from the night, 
The dismal night of error. 



March, 1859. 



70 



1842—1892 
On a Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary. 

BETWEEN these two dates, like the leaves of a book, 
Are folded the years of a marrried life ; 
And to-day o'er the treasured annal we look — 
One chapter of blessedness — husband and wife , 
Fifty fair pages, all bright 
With a silver and golden light. 

Some contrasts we find ; nor can it seem strange 

That spaces of sunshine have shadows between ; 
A half century covers a varying range 
Of events , and life is a shifting scene ; 
Fair fifty pages, and each 
With its own special lesson to teach. 

On the earliest pages, a roseate glow, 

Telling well the story of youth and of love ; 
Growing deeper and richer as years come and go, 
And blending, anon, with the light from above — 
Fifty fair pages, that shine, 
At last, with a lustre divine. 

Stories these pages might tell if they would, 

Stories of struggles, and crosses and tears ; 
Of patient endeavor, come evil, come good, 

71 



1842—1892 



Two lives with one aim through the on-going years : 
Fifty fair pages that tell 
Of a race run bravely and well. 

What changes the pages record, and how great 

The achievements of science ! What arts have had birth ! 
What progress been made in church and in state ! 
New life breaking forth like a flood o'er the earth : 
Fifty fair pages, that seem 
Like the boldest flight of a dream. 

For railroad, telegraph, sewing machine, 

Typewriter, telephone, " patent out-sides," 
' Wheels," ringers, dynamos, run in between 
The lids of this book ; and a great gulf divides 
Fifty fair pages — first and last — 
Then and now — the present and past. 

And thunders of war and battle's fierce tide, 

And liberty's heraldry, lofty and free, 
Have cut for themselves a deep channel and wide, 
Between the old days and the days yet to be : 
Fifty fair pages record 
The wonderful works of the Lord. 

The redolent morning arose to the noon ; 

The silver turned golden as evening drew near ; 
The journey, though weary, will terminate soon ; 
The gates of the city of God will appear : 
Fifty fair pages will shine 
In the light of a glory divine. 
72 



LIFE WORK 

I /ERE life one scene of pleasure fair, 
W No Ms, no clouds, no storms, 
No foes to meet, no pains to bear, 
No labors to perform — 

Were it a stream that wends its way 

With gently ebbing tide, 
And man a supple gondola, 

Adown the stream to glide — 

Were there no conflicts stern to test 

Man's sinew and his nerve, 
He ne'er had filled Heaven's high behest, 

His day and race to serve ; 

He ne'er had scaled Olympia's heights, 

Or delved its rocky base ; 
Nor plumed his thought with eagle flight, 

The giddy orbs to trace ; 

He ne'er had treasured up the love 

Of nature and of art , 
Nor felt within himself the power 

To bless the human heart ; 
73 



LIFE WORK 



He ne'er had known what kindness, love, 

What philanthropic zeal, 
What generous impulses might move 

His soul for human weal. 

Tis toil that makes the strength of man, 

" We live in deeds not years : " 
And he lives most, whose deeds entrench 
His life with grateful tears. 

His day of life's a day of strife, 

In battle for the right ; 
He seeks humanity's relief 

From sin's destructive blight ; 

He has the chivalry of soul 
That makes him dare be true, 

He spurns the wrong, and has no goal 
But truth and right in view. 

Such is the man whose life shall be 

In grateful memory borne ; 
Him Christ shall bid, " Come unto me," 

In judgment's awful morn. 



7-1 



PASSING AWAY 

WE'RE passing away : each circling year 
Counts many an hour that brings us near 
The appointed time for our exit from earth, 
To that dream-land where pleasures immortal have birth. 

We're passing away : each sky-flitting cloud 
Is a token most faithful that man, now so proud, 
Flaunts a few fleeting years in vanity drest, 
But the dark grave at last is his place of rest. 

We're passing away : each leaf and each blade, 

The oak of the forest, the flower of the glade, 

The life freighted spring, summer's long harvest day, 

And winter's dread waste, sigh, " We're passing away." 

We're passing away : the great rolling sun, 
The silver-gilt star, the pale, smiling moon, 
Blend their still touching voices to chant the sad lay, 
And earth echoes mournfully, "passing away." 

We're passing away: the smile mantled cheek 
Of the infant, the youth, hath a language to speak; 
The silver-clad brow worn with life's weary day 
Tells the truth, all too true, we're passing away. 

75 



PASSING AWAY 



All that mingles to make up the drama of life, 
This scene of heart struggles, tears, sorrow and strife, 
All terrestial nature bears marks of decay, 
Chanting sad her own requiem, ''passing away." 



7fi 



THE BOON I ASK 

THE boon I ask of this world, 
Is not its wealth and praise, 
Nor that proud marble o'er my dust 
Ungrateful hands may raise ; 

I ask not for a great name, 
Emblazoned in renown, 
Nor cold and heartless flattery 
That heaven must needs disown ; 

I plead not rest from labor, 
Nor crave release from pain ; 
Nor will that other hearts and hands 
Should take my loss and gain ; 

I do not pray for long life — 
For years that yield no fruit ; 
For lingering days of helplessness, 
Before my sands run out : 

The boon I ask of this world, 
Is, that when I am gone, 
Some sufferer may seek my grave 
And weep for me alone ; 

77 



THE BOON I ASK 



And those I once instructed, 
And erring ones I led, 
The lonely orphans I made glad, 
The poor I clothed and fed, 

May stand with bated breathing 
My place of rest above, 
And number over tenderly 
The works I wrought in love. 

Better than stately marble 
My monument shall be, 
If evermore in grateful hearts 
Shall linger thoughts of me. 



78 



LYDIA 

WE speak thy name with tenderness ; 
For there are lips still tremulous 
With fond and chastened love 
That scarce have dared to move 
Since thy fair lips gave back to us 
Thy sweet farewell — thy last caress. 

We've marked the fall of fading leaves 

For many sad departing years ; 

Their fall we henceforth link 

With thine ; and we shall think 

Of thee, when Autumn, with our tears, 

Drops on thy grave the robe it weaves. 

Yet not alone we trust to see 

In falling leaves thy monument ; 

For there were loving deeds 

And care for human needs, 

And hours in Christ's dear service spent 

That still shall kindly tell of thee. 

Nor do we mourn our earthly loss 
That brought to us such heavenly gain, 
As those who, without hope, 
79 



LYDIA 



Drink sorrow's bitter cup ; 

For pleasure now repays thy pain, 

And life's bright crown succeeds thy cross. 

Thy soul has reached the summer land 

Where fading shall be known no more ; 

Unto thy heavenly home 

No night, no death shall come ; 

And on that peaceful shining shore 

We hope, with thee, white robed to stand. 

Oh, vernal years of ceaseless bloom : 
Oh, stormless sky : Oh, perfect day : 
Oh, love and peace and rest : 
Oh, mansions of the blest : 
How long ere we, still far away, 
Shall to the blissful dawning come ? 

The dispensations of the Lord, 
The mysteries of grief and love, 
All these shall be made bright 
In God's revealing light — 
Not now, but in the home above ; 
By ties not here, but there restored. 



CRUX MIHI ANCHORA 

I'M anchored to the blessed Cross, 
That entereth within the vale. 
The wild waves now my bark may toss, 
I smile defiance at the gale. 

As once on the Tiberian Sea, 

Their vessel to and fro much tossed, 

A trembling crew to Jesus flee 
And cry, " Awake, or all is lost ! " 

So the dark waves in tumult rose, 

Of sin, and fear and unbelief, 
To overwhelm my false repose, 

And drown my soul with grief on grief. 

All His dread billows o'er me poured, 
And sinking seemed my wreck of peace, 

When Christ the Saviour came on board, 
And bade the winds and waves to cease. 

Rebuked, the storm His whisper heard, 
And never sea more placid grew, 

Than when at Jesus' sovereign word, 
My doubts and fears their Master knew. 
81 



CRUX MIHI ANCHOR A 



And now above life's ocean roar, 
Amid its ceaseless tide and surge, 

I listen, catching evermore, 
The gentle, talismanic words — 

" Peace and be still " and in my breast 

Are hushed all turbulent desires, 
My anxious care is lulled to rest, 
And quelled are all the passion-fires. 

No tempest may so angry grow, 

But it shall hear the " still small voice ; ' 

No errant thought, but quick shall know 
And make His sweet control, my choice. 

This world can no disaster bring 
While in the ship the Master keeps, 

And to His anchor Cross I cling 
On billow's crest, or in the deeps. 

My boat may roll from side to side, 
My sails may lap the foaming spray, 

And masts may dip beneath the tide 
Or surges carry them away — 

Yet all is peace — the anchor holds, 
The cable, life nor death, can part ; 

And clouds may wrap me in their folds, 
Despair cannot enfold my heart. 
82 



CRUX MIHI AN CHORA 

A beacon marks the quiet shore 
Where, anchored, I at last shall stand 

With those who glided on before 
And now are watching on the strand. 

Crux Mihi Anchora — I sing, 
As nearer seems the haven fair, 

And wind and waves are sent to bring 
My wandering bark to anchor there. 



S3 



DECLARATION OF THE FREE 
A paraphrase of Robert G. Inger soil's last poem. 

WE need no falsehoods to defend, 
We have the facts. 
Our force, our thoughts, we do not spend 

In vain attacks ; 
To know and do the truth we try, — 
Truth, fairer than a pleasing lie. 

The truth of God is all we ask ; — 

This, our ideal. 
The truth in Christ makes plain our task 

To find the real. 
We seek the gold and not the dross : 
Who seek for this need fear no loss. 

A lowly faith cannot be fooled, 

Not fable-nursed ; 
In meek submission ever schooled 

To bear the worst, 
It can look up and calmly dare 
All things, if only God be there. 
84 



DECLARATION OF THE FREE 

We have one God to serve and fear, 

One hell to shun ; 
All devils to resist while here 

Our course we run. 
No endless sleep will close our eyes 
Beyond this realm of dreams and sighs. 

We own one Master of the land 

And sea and air ; 
Made free through Him alone, we stand 

In grateful prayer ; 
Why should we fear the coming night ? 
We dwell in God, and God is light. 

We need not bow before a guess, 

For things unknown ; 
The great Revealer sure will bless 

And guide His own, 
And change what seemed a bitter curse 
To rapture set in song and verse. 

When cyclones rend, when lightning blights, 

It is not fate ; 
There is a God who never smites 

In heathen hate. 
In things that seem to injure man 
He has a purpose, thought and plan. 

The jeweled cup of love we drain, 
And friendship's wine 

85 



DECLARATION OF THE FREE 



Now swiftly flows in every vein 
With warmth divine ; 
We know and see — not hope and dream- 
That in death's sky there is a gleam. 

We walk by faith's increasing light, 

Pursue the path 
That leads to honor's stainless height 

Fearing no wrath 
Nor curse of God, nor human spite, 
If, knowing, we but do the right. 

We love our fellow man — our kind — 
Wife, child and friend ; 

As taught by Jesus, lead the blind ; 
Like Him, extend 

The helping hand to the distressed ; 

Like Him, in blessing we are blessed. 

Love's sacred flame is in the heart, 
And friendship's glow, 

While all the miracles of art 
Their wealth bestow 

Upon the thrilled and joyous brain, 

And present raptures banish pain. 

We look for treasures in the skies 

When mortal flesh, 
Its passion-fires extinguished, lies 

In beds made fresh 



DECLARATION OF THE FREE 



With flowers like banners there unfurled, 
Faith's emblem for a dying world. 

The hands that help are stronger, far, 

With lips that pray ; 
Love is the ever-gleaming star 

That lights the way 
And shines from worlds of perfect bliss, 
To make a paradise of this. 

We pray, but do not weep and wail ; 

We have no dread, 
No fear, to pass beyond the veil 

That hides our dead ; 
We do not question, dream or guess, 
For faith's assurance we possess. 

Our prayer is answered, and we know 

'Tis not in vain ; 
There is a " Master of the show," 

Who does explain 
And from the future tears the mask ; 
It is no dream, when Him we ask. 

Death is a door that leads to light, 

Brighter than day. 
There is, through all the silent night 

A shining way ; 
No tongueless secret, locked in fate, 
O'erhangs the door at which we wait. 
87 



IT SNOWS 



SNOW! 
Volatile, capricious snow, 
Waltzing dreamily to and fro ! 
Silent, aimless, how it floats ! 
Myriad flaky, fleecy motes, 
Tilting, waving on the air, 
Oscillating here and there, 
With the most bewitching grace, 
In a wild and wanton chase, 
Tripping over land and sea, 
Like aerial spirits free, 
Fashion's emblem is the snow — 
Glittering, cold, coquettish snow. 

Snow ! 
Fleecy tumult fills the sky ; 
White-winged legions passing by, 
Swaying with the zigzag wind, 
By no " mete or bound " confined, 
Lithe as angels from afar — 
From the ether "gates ajar" ; 
Had I wings, this very day, 
Land that seemeth far away, 



IT SNOWS 



Thou shouldst to my spirit be 
Nearer than the one I see, 
Dark with woe, white with snow, 
Vanishing, inconstant snow ! 

Snow ! 
Making all things white and new, 
Type of souls made pure and true, 
Shouldst thou tarry but a night, 
Dreams as beautiful and bright, 
Hopes as holy, thoughts as chaste, 
May as quickly be effaced ; 
Names with purest incense blest, 
Lives on which no shadows rest, 
Souls in angel whiteness clad, 
Hearts that never yet were sad, 
Dark may grow, fading so, 
Perishing silently, like the snow ! 



REST THOU IN PEACE 
Written on the death of a friend. 

REST thou in peace ; thy race was short, 
Thy sun went down at its noon-tide — 
But set without a cloud betokening. 
No storm upon that long nightless to-morrow, 
Which thy sleep of death approximates ; 
Rest thou in peace, thy work is done. 
Many in time to come shall reap the fruit 
Of that good seed which thou hast sown 
In faithfulness, in tears, while thou 
In heaven shall reap the rich rewards of thy discipleship. 
Thou wilt be missed ; thy vacant pew 
Will speak in memory of thee touchingly ; 
And in the prayer-circle where we were wont 
To hear thy fervent pleading at the throne of grace, 
There when the solemn rite goes round, 

And voice succeeding voice goes up to God 
In supplication, thy tones we shall not hear, 
And may perchance relent thy early fall. 
Thou wilt be missed, but most around the board 
And hearthstone where warm incense of devotion 
Rose morning and eve from grateful hearts 



REST THOU IN PEACE 



To which thy own did beat responsive. 

From the entrenchments of a father's love, 

And from thy nestling place among the tendrils of a 

Mother's warm affection, they will miss thee, 

And along their pilgxfetage a thousand tokens 

Of thy missing presence shall waken afresh 

Those chords which now vibrate in tones of grief. 

Rest thou in peace ; we murmur not, 

For thou hast made the voyage of life 

Beneath a genial sky, and o'er a placid sea ; 

And happy art thou now to moor thy bark 

Upon the stormless, cloudless, surgeless shore 

Of undisturbed felicity. God took thee 

Ere care made its deep furrow on thy brow 

Of the rough wearings of this phantom-chasing life, 

Had chafed thy spirit and dispelled 

That glow of kindly christian sympathy 

Which thou were wont to wear upon thy countenance, 

And which when death had set his seal upon thee 

Beamed forth from thy unclosed eyes 

With a prophetic fire. 

Rest thou in peace ; for thou hast reached 
The fond ideal of thy hopes and longings ; 
Thou art present in the New Jerusalem 
And hast seen the King in all his beauty ; 
Not by the eye of faith through a glass darkly 
As thou did upon the eve of thy departure 
91 



REST THOU IN PEACE 



When thou wrestled in strong prayer to God, 

For then the burden of thy earthly work 

Rested upon thee, and the fever, 

Like a storm, thy earthly tabernacle rent ; 

And then thou wert but in the vestibule of glory, 

But art now striking thy harp of gold 

In the great temple of the Lord on high. 

Rest thou in peace ; soft melody 

From the cherubic courts above 

Fell like the breath of angels on thy spirit, 

Wooing it to the land of song, and harp, and seraphim. 

Now thou art in Heaven, 

With that loved one whose life was thine, 

And in whose death died earthly charms, 

And earthly hopes, and earthly joys to thee ; 

For in her death there were the blendings 

And unfoldings of a fadeless life to come — 

Sweet pledge to thee, that buried hopes 

And sundered ties are emblems 

Of a better life and a reunion 

Full of unmixed blessedness. 

Rest thou in peace ; the storm is past — 
The goal of bliss is reached at last ; 
Thou'rt free, in Jesus free, 
Eternal rest remains for thee. 



92 



THE OLD CHURCH 
Unfinished poem, written after leaving his last pastorate. 

GOOD-BYE, old church, if this must be ; 
My life and love were given Thee. 
My holiest faith and fondest thought 
Into thy very walls are wrought, 
And every fresco-tint is fair 
With fadeless memories, painted there ; 
Good-bye, old church. 

Thy pulpit, ever sacred place, 
Where God revealed his peace and face — 
Thy pews, where hearts with mingled prayer 
Laid at His feet their load of care ; 
The organ tones, or loud or soft, 
And praises, bearing us aloft — 
Good-bye, old church. 



93 



PUSH THINGS 

THIS is the age of steam and fire. 
Of desperate haste and hot desire ; 
Of thought that speeds on lightning wings, 
Of nations and destinies born in a day ; 
For the " slow coach " era has passed away — 
And this is the time to " push things." 

The fogy still carries his grist on a nag, 
With a stone in the opposite end of the bag, 

And to the old custom lovingly clings ; 
But bigger grists than his are ground, 
As the ponderous wheels of the age go around, 

And its mighty forces " push things." 

Agitation is now the rule, 

And life is changed to a lively school. 

For the wrongs of serfs and the rights of kings, 
The schemes of the wicked, high or low, 
Are read by the millions thro' and thro', 

And all unite to " push things." 

We live in an age of enterprise, 
Of ears acute and open eyes ; 

With wonders new the wide world rings ; 
94 



PUSH THINGS 

Arts and inventions, great and small, 
Improve the lot of each and all, 
And help mankind to " push things." 

Ours is a day of living fast, 

And good and evil are sown broadcast ; 

And each with a quicker life upsprings, 
For the evil will choke the good to death, 
Unless with heart and hand and breath 

We earnestly haste and " push things." 

This is a crisis of right and wrong, 
And in a contest sharp and strong 

Each down the menacing gauntlet flings ; 
And the battle of truth, with legions arrayed, 
Grows red with the heat of hearts not afraid 

To do and dare and " push things." 

This is the time when life means work, 
And the meanest man is the idle shirk 

Who still to his drowsy pillow clings ; 
For now the dolt, the slave, the drone, 
Are only found in the Torrid Zone, 

And the good and the true all " push things. 

For mighty works must yet be done — 
Salvation and grace are but begun ; 
The dawn of which the prophet sings, 
95 



PUSH THINGS 



When the lion and the lamb shall play, 
And none shall harm, and all obey, 

In the distance waits till we "push things." 

The winds bring to us a sorrowful wail, 
The zephyrs tell a plaintive tale, 

The air with a voice of agony rings ; 
'Tis the wail of poverty, pain and sin — 
The prayer that pleads for the ushering in 

Of the joy that must come when we " push things." 

Then with emulous heart and cheerful feet, 
Let us welcome the task be it lowly or great, 

Which our great generation brings ; 
For a sure reward and a great renown, 
And laurels green, and a saintly crown, 

Are only for those who " push things." 



96 



REVERIES 

SWEET thoughts and sad of other days 
Come with these gentle evening shades 
And as the moaning sea wind plays 
Through casements, weird and plaintive lays, 

The present from my vision fades, 
As go the mellow, fading rays. 

I gaze out on the sullen deep, 

That to another deep doth call. 
Upon its breast night seems to sleep ; 
But restless waves still swell and leap 

Beneath that silent, brooding pall, 
As hearts a ceaseless throbbing keep. 

Oh ! other deeps than this I know, 
And other days that usher nights, 

And seeming peace that is not so ; 

And smiles that guise an inward woe, 
And hopes that fade as transient lights, 

And winds and waves that come and go. 

I've seen the morn in glory rise, 

And touch the hills and kiss the plain — 
Hope, joy and song, like sacrifice, 
97 



REVERIES 



Rose to the sympathetic skies ; 

Then all was clad in gloom again, 
And darkness rested on my eyes. 

I've seen the bursting life of spring 

Come forth in germ and leaf and flower ; 

I've heard the busy hum and ring 

Of culture, care and husbanding ; 
I've walked through autumn's leafless bower, 

I've heard drear winter's fierce gales sing ; 

But this is more than prophecy : 

There " standeth sure " this blessed word, 

That soon or late shall come a day 

Whose noon will never pale away, 
And voices lost, that once we heard, 

We'll hear again and join their lay. 

There is a sweet spring just at hand, 

After our wintry discontent ; 
Rare bloom regales that vernal land, 
Soft, bright skies evermore expand, 

The air of love is ambient, 
And to this spring there comes no end. 

The loved and pure of other days 

Come to me through the silent shade ; 
I see them in their strength and joy, 
I see them slowly waste away, 



REVERIES 

As tenderest hopes and blossoms fade, 
To shine beneath a kindlier sky. 

Each voice I hear recalls to me 
A voice that I shall hear no more ; 

Each face, a brow I shall not see, 

Each tie, a union yet to be, 

Only beyond the earthward shore, 

Amid a goodly company. 

I dread not all the soul's dark night, 
I heed not all the toils that come ; 

I walk by faith and wait for sight 

Of wings for some transcendent flight 
That wafts me to the welcome home, 

Where all shall finally be light. 

In pains and cups of misery, 

I see the mystery of life ; 
But He, the God, hath taught me this : 
That bitterest cups pledge sweetest bliss ; 

And so, not else, I bide the strife, 
And wait upon his ministry. 

L.ofC. 



IMMORTALITY 

THE flower that nestles in the vale, 
Exhaling fragrance on the air, 
And loading every passing gale 
With grateful incense breathing there, 
When spring's enchanting hour has fled 
Must fade and wither where it grew, 
And sleep its last sweet sleep in death, 
With all the floral retinue. 

The strong-ribbed oak that rears its head 
In towering grandeur heavenward, 
And wide its wavy branches spread, 
From sun and storm to guard the sward, 
Bereft of its majestic charms 
Must bow its stately form to earth — 
Must fold its long distended arms, 
And moulder in the grassy turf. 

The laughing, leaping, prating rill, 
Must hush its murmuring melody ; 
And downy choralists that fill 
The air, must cease their minstrelsy. 
So nature's universal voice 
100 



IMMORTALITY 



Shall falter and grow still in death ; 
And her great pulsing heart must cease 
Its throbbing life, its heaving breath ; 

But though all nature cease to be — 
The moon and stars refuse their light, 
The sun grow dim and fade away, 
And countless worlds sink into night, 
Our spirits with unwearied haste 
Shall soar to reach the mount of God, 
And shout amid the dismal waste 
Redemption through atoning blood. 



101 



A HALF CENTURY 
On the fiftieth wedding anniversary of friends. 

AS autumn lends a golden hue 
To harvest field and woody bower, 
And richer tints o'erspread the blue, 
When nearer draws the sunset hour, 

So to our human lives may come, 

From God's sweet sunshine, year by year, 

Before the sheaves are gathered home, 
A golden beauty rich and rare. 

The good deeds wrought, as time went by, 
The virtues fostered, day by day, 

These blend along life's evening sky, 
And brighter make the pilgrim way. 

'Tis meet, my friends, this festive scene 
Is placed in autumn's earlier time, 

For you, at three score years and ten, 
To us seem only in your prime. 

We gather here, to-day, to share 
With you the joy and wealth untold 

Of fifty years, more rich and rare 
Than vaults of silver and of gold. 
102 



A HALF CENTURY 

We come to talk the old times o'er ; 

To tread the paths of by-gone years ; 
To sing the wedding song once more, 

And charm away regretful tears. 

These fifty years of shade and shine, 
Of youthful love, and visions fair, 

Of raising babies, milking kine, 
And building castles in the air, 

Of felling trees and pulling stumps, 
Of driving oxen with beech goads, 

Of plowing roots with lively bumps, 
Of grading up primeval roads, 

Of living in the snug log home, 
With kitchen, parlor, pantry, hall, 

And dining, sitting, sleeping-room 
In one — and room enough for all, 

Of going to meeting on a sled, 

Of breaking up the rich green sward, 

Of eating pork and Indian bread, 
Of toil which yielded quick reward : 

What years they were, what joys they brought ; 

What ups and downs, what blooms and snows 
What tranquil seas, disturbed by nought, 

What squalls, that never came to blows ! 
103 



A HALF CENTURY 

If life has been diversified, 

With clouds and beams of light between, 
If by extremes of fortunes tried, 

Then, all the better, life has been. 

A meek old man of placid vis, 

His parson met with twinkling eyes, 

And piously remarked that his 
Connubial card has drawn a prize. 

"For parson," quoth this goodish saint, 
" In all these years myself and wife 
Have passed no cross words of complaint, 
Nor quarreled once in all our life." 

" Not one dispute along the way," 

Exclaimed the parson, " not a fuss ! " 

" If so, then I am bound to say 
Your life has been monotonous." 

Well, you have sailed the seas of life 
Through fifty years in every weather, 

Captain and mate, husband and wife, 
You've braved the storms and waves together. 

And now, the harbor's drawing near ; 

Your sun slopes to the western portal ; 
The gloaming gathers ; and you hear 

The surf-beat on the shores immortal. 
104 



A HALF CENTURY 

So, join your hands, repeat the vow, 
The deathless bonds that you entwine, 

And stronger make your love to grow, 
And purer, deeper, more divine ; 

Yes, join your hands, and wedded be 
To walk beside the Lamb in white 

On that bright shore, beyond the sea, 
As you've sailed, JfflV 2/ ears ' l °- ni 9 ht 



105 



HIDDEN 

I WANDERED over the hill-side 
That slopes to the setting sun, 
For the blossoms of trailing arbutus, 
When the day was almost done. 

It was one of the rarest of May-days, 
And cooled by a softening breeze; — 

Not a sound but the lake's gentle ripple 
And the bird-songs in the trees. 

The earth was flecked by the May-flowers, 
Like snow flakes scattered around ; 

Or a carpet with daintiest figures 
Dropped carelessly over the ground. 

I fell on my knees to scan closer 
The beauties that lay half concealed, 

For I knew that the charms that are rarest, 
To carefullest search are revealed. 

The love and the truth held within us, 
By the heart, in its silent thrall, 

Our hidden and cherished possessions, 
Are treasured most sacred of all. 

So under the leaves and the mosses 
The pink-tinted petals were found, 

Unconscious of art or ambition, 
Exhaling their sweetness around. 
106 



HIDDEN 

And I saw in the trailing arbutus 
A symbol of virtue and worth 

Which sound out no trumpet before them, 
Yet they gladden and bless the earth. 

Of modesty, meekness and patience, 

Sweet blossoms, a sermon you preach ; 
Not jealous of stars in the azure, 

Nor ripples that play on the beach. 
Arbutus, go on with your preaching ! 

God's oracle truly are you ; 
And your sermons evermore deepen 

Our love for the good and the true. 
They are practical, searching sermons, 

And they give us a heartfelt pain, 
For they make us know we are selfish, 

Conceited, and heartless, and vain. 
Your white little petals are transient, 

Their beauty is but for a day ; 
But they tell us of bloom immortal, 

In the land that is far away. 
And from the brown hill-side you whisper 

Of glories supernal and fair, 
In a home beyond fading and dying, 

Till I almost wish I was there. 
But I know that your sermon is teaching 

For this life the lessons of love ; 
And I ought to learn how I may make it 

As pure as the bright world above. 
107 



INTERCESSION 



Words and music by Dr. Burgess. 




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OHOLY GHOST divine, 
Upon our darkness shine, 
And light our way ; 
Bid every doubt remove, 
Our bosoms fill with love, 
And lift our souls above, 
To realms of day. 



Here countless foes assail, 
And we before them quail, 
With baffled aim; 
108 



INTERCESSION 



0, by Thy strength sustain, 
Nor let us strive in vain, 
Till we the vict'ry gain, 
In Jesus' name. 

In all our pilgrim-state 
Our souls upon Thee wait, 

And trust Thy power; 
Be Thou our stay and guide, 
O'er all our steps preside, 
And keep us near Thy side, 

In peril's hour. 

A joy serene impart, 
Breathe into every heart 

Faith's calm repose; 
More love for Jesus shed: — 
He for our ransom bled, 
And Death a captive led, 

When He arose. 



109 



DONE REFUSIN' 
Do with thy might what thy hands find to do. — Ecel. 9:10. 

THERE was work for the Lord to be done in the church, 
And the workers were few, indeed ; 
They were often sadly left in the lurch, 

And their cry there were none to heed. 
There chanced in that church a deacon to be, 

Who was homespun and common enough ; 
Neither wealthy, nor learned, nor polished, was he, 
But a diamond in the rough. 

Yet his heart was large, and his love was deep ; 

And his piety very sincere — 
The ways of the Lord he had tried to keep, 

Through many a passing year, 
But he had not always in meekness bowed — 

The yoke he had sometimes refused — 
More than once he had said, with the idle crowd : 
" I pray thee, have me excused." 

Nor can it be deemed his excuse was not good ; 

Though good excuses are rare — 
For his thought was much upon raiment and food 

For those who were under his care, 
110 



DONE REFUSIN' 

And he honestly meant what he said, no doubt, 
When he begged them to pass him by : 
" You will find some one else, by looking about, 
That will do much better than I." 

But this deacon saw things in a different light, 

As the years were speeding away ; 
And he came to fear it was not just right 

To answer the Master, Nay ! 
The trials of life had softened him more, 

And grace had done its work ; 
And he saw, as he never had seen before, 

The sin of thus playing the shirk. 

Somehow the deacon had come to regard 

The work which the church had to do- 
Though it might for the time seem very hard— 

As a work for the Master, too. 
He had learned that the lowliest act of love 

For the humblest who serve the Lord, 
Is seen by the eye that looks down from above, 

And will some time meet its reward. 

So the pastor came to his door one day, 

This deacon's assistance to ask; 
And the thing in view, 'tis proper to say, 

Was rather an irksome task. 
The deacon a moment stood silent in thought, 
111 



DONE REFUSING 



And then he lifted his head: — 
"It is not just the thing I, myself, would o'sought, 
But I'm done ref usin' ," he said. 

The heart of that pastor grew light with surprise, 

As he wended his way to the manse; 
And visions of glory beamed in his eyes, — 

And he thought, how the church would advance, 
Her borders extend, and her harvests increase, 

Her joy like a river flow on ; — 
How the hum of her industry never would cease, 

If "ref usin'" forever was "done." 

"I'm done refusin' :" the homely words 

Are like the refrain of a song; — 
And sweeter than notes of singing birds 

Their echoes are borne along: — 
And I fancy that some day, up in the sky, 

When the Master his servant shall meet, 
That deacon will lay, with unspeakable joy, 

Golden sheaves, at the Master's feet. 



112 



DEC 11 1902 




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